


Prologue

by LovelySapphic



Series: In Your Eyes [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Canon Compliant, Child Abuse, Hakoda (Avatar) is a Good Parent, Heartbreaking, Heavy Angst, Iroh is trying his best, Its not good, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Physical Abuse, Pre-Canon, at least this one is, but it’ll be a long one, except where it’s not, i have lots of ideas though, maybe I’ll get the motivation to make a series out of this, slaps roof of zuko, so you can imagine the reactions our boys receive, this bad boy can fit so much childhood trauma, your eyes are the color of your soulmates nation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28186329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelySapphic/pseuds/LovelySapphic
Summary: No, the siblings' eyes were not blue, but neither set was green, either. The firstborn, Sokka, had been born with eyes such a bright hazel they could be mistaken for gold. They shone in the sun, gleaming like brilliant flames.The younger sibling, Katara, did not share her brother's golden eyes. Hers were grey, like the clouds before a spring thunderstorm, like the choppy waves and raging winds that accompanied such weather. They were not, however, cold. They were bright, and playful, and full of hope. They brought promise of warmer weather, of clearer skies.(Or: a tragic, angst-filled soulmate AU where you’re born with eyes the color of your soulmate’s nation.)
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: In Your Eyes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2068059
Comments: 55
Kudos: 306





	1. Water

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [hollow hearts and hateful souls](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23439082) by [SarsparillaSparrow (Bundibird)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bundibird/pseuds/SarsparillaSparrow). 



> I’m gonna warn you, this story is nothing like my other fic
> 
> If you’re here for fluff, uhhh,,,, this ain’t it
> 
> I love the work this was inspired by and would love to see more of it, but I’m impatient and I had a few changes I wanted to make, so I stole the idea hehe
> 
> I don’t think this chapter needs any content warnings?? Please please let me know if I’m wrong

Sokka and Katara had always been different from the rest of the tribe.

At first glance, there wasn’t much that distinguished them. Katara was a waterbender, yes, and Sokka had quite the strategic mind, especially for his age, but everyone had their talents. No one was surprised by these gifts, especially considering their position as the chief’s children.

And sure, they had lost their mother from a young age, far too young. But that wasn’t shocking, either, in the midst of this war. Everyone had lost someone, especially in the Southern Water Tribe.

No, what set them apart was unique. It was subtle if you weren’t looking, but once you noticed? It was glaring.

The children’s eyes were not blue.

That alone wouldn’t be an issue. Being of a somewhat higher ranking, it wasn’t that out of the question for their soulmates to be from the Earth Kingdom. Perhaps one of the siblings would travel for diplomatic reasons, meet someone, fall in love. Or, maybe a young Earth Kingdom citizen would see their own blue eyes and take it upon themself to search out their heart’s match. Despite the rarity of the situation in their small population, it wasn’t unheard of.

And yet—

This was not the case.

No, the siblings' eyes were not blue, but neither set was green, either. The firstborn, Sokka, had been born with eyes such a bright hazel they could be mistaken for gold. They shone in the sun, gleaming like brilliant flames. Each night when they were children, as the village gathered around a fire to cook the day’s hunt, the sparks danced in Sokka’s wide eyes. He was young then, still oblivious to the fear he caused, but Kanna watched him stare into the flames, mesmerized. A chill down her spine, despite the heat. She shook it off angrily.

She would not fear her grandson. She would not let him feel inferior to the rest of the tribe.

She didn’t know the circumstances of his eventual love, of course. A starving fugitive, perhaps. An enemy to the royal family. Maybe the boy would be lucky enough to see the end of the war in his lifetime, to see a friendship built between their nations that would allow for such a relationship. There was no reason to believe that he’d—

She stopped herself. She would not let the thought cross her mind.

Others in the tribe had no such reservations.

She would often hear whispers of a traitor, of a chief who abandons his morals to gain power, of a coward. She could not always find the energy to dispute them.

The boy grew up surrounded by unfounded suspicion. He was still a child when he realized why they hated him.

“Gran-Gran?”

“Yes, child?” She turned to glance at him as they walked along the icy shore.

“Why don't the other boys want to play with me?” He was pouting slightly, arms crossed. “I’m only a couple years younger than them! And I’m a much better hunter than Voak.”

Kanna sighed. The fond smile on her face was tinged with pity. “Come here, Sokka.” She led him by the hand to the water’s edge, kneeling with him. “Tell me what you see.”

He squinted at his reflection. “I see… me?”

“Exactly. And that’s what I see when I look at you, too.” She took his small hands in hers. “It’s what your father sees, what your mother sees, and what your baby sister sees. But,” she inhaled slowly, “not everyone does. Those boys… They just see your eyes. They see the color of the Fire Nation. They’re— They don’t trust you, Sokka.”

“Oh.” He looked down, and Kanna reached out to touch his chin, to lift his gaze to hers. His eyes were bright with tears, and she blinked away her own.

“Listen to me, Sokka. They’re wrong. They don’t know you like we do.” She pulled him into her lap. “They don’t know what a good hunter you are. They don’t see how gentle you are with Katara, or hear the jokes that make your father choke on his sea prunes.” She tapped a finger to his nose and he giggled.

She stood, lifting him onto her hip. As they trudged back to the village, Sokka babbled about his recent success with a boomerang. Kanna’s mind, however, was elsewhere. She prayed to Tui and La that the boy would never suffer more than petty exclusion from childrens’ games. She knew, in her heart, however, that he’d face much worse.

The younger sibling, Katara, did not share her brother's golden eyes. Hers were grey, like the clouds before a spring thunderstorm, like the choppy waves and raging winds that accompanied such weather. They were not, however, cold. They were bright, and playful, and full of hope. They brought promise of warmer weather, of clearer skies.

When she was born, her parents looked at her eyes with thinly veiled worry, fearing a second child with eyes like fire. Their relief, however, was short-lived. At the sight of such a color, the medics whispers amongst themselves. The girl’s mother, already delirious from labor, burst into tears. She wept for her children. She wept for her tribe, for her family. She wailed for her daughter’s future grief, for the feeling of _loneliness_ , of _incompleteness_ that she would live with all her life. The feeling of something missing that had never been there to lose.

Kya, wrapped in her husband's arms as he cried with her, held her baby tight to her chest. She would protect her daughter. She would give her a good life, full of love and joy, despite the spirits’ best wishes. This cruel injustice would not define her life.

The rumors surrounding her were a stark contrast to those about her brother.

Some suggested she was cursed in a past life, forever destined to crave a connection she could never have. Others considered a different extreme; a secret hideaway for remaining Air Nomads, somewhere they’d gone undetected for a hundred years.

Katara’s rumors quieted in pity after their mother’s death. Sokka’s did not.

Despite Hakoda’s best wishes, he could not force the tribe to trust his son. He knew the boy, listened to his ideas, noticed his silent tears when he wasn’t quick enough to hide them. He recognized his son’s loyalty, his sharp hatred of the Fire Nation. Not many others paid enough attention.

When Hakoda had to leave to join the naval efforts, he feared for his son. He feared what the villagers would say, what they’d _do_.

(A part of him was grateful that Sokka was too young to join him. A part of him worried what might happen if they stumbled across a Fire Nation soldier with blue eyes. The rest of him knew he shouldn’t think such a thing.)

So he simply hugged his son tight, kissed the top of his head, and told him to look after his sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahaha sorry 
> 
> But also not sorry because next chapter will be worse
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: domestic abuse, child abuse, Ozai POV, PTSD, poor self-image, injury (please tell me if I missed any)

When Zuko was born, the medical staff told Ursa of a baby boy. She sighed with relief. Ozai would have an heir.

They told her of a child with a weak inner flame, and her relief was swept away. Ozai whipped his head towards her in fury.

“What did you do?” Ozai seethed.

“I did nothing,” she growled, reaching for her newborn. She was tired, _so tired_ , but she knew firsthand what Ozai would do if he didn’t get his way. She would not let him lay a hand on her child, not while she had any say in his life.

“I was promised that a child born of both our bloodlines would have great power.” He turned to the child in disgusted rage as Ursa tore him from the nurse.

She looked down at the baby, whose cries were muted. His eyes blinked slowly up at her, and she gasped. The sound was wretched.

“Blue eyes,” she whispered unthinkingly. They glittered like the ocean on a summer’s day, like a clear sky. An image of a wooden theater mask flickered in her memory. Her heart dropped.

She recognized her husband drawing nearer, and gripped the child against her breast, terrified. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she looked around desperately for an escape, a defense, _anything_ . He wrapped a rough hand around her wrist, twisting it painfully away from the baby, from _her baby_. She cried out as he ripped the boy from her grasp, staring at the small bundle with the most horrible expression.

He turned to one of the guards positioned at the doorway. “Throw it out.”

She screamed. “ _No_!” She stood, staggering on her weak legs. Her muscles screamed with the effort but she needed to protect him. She reached, arms swinging out in front of her, but Ozai held the boy just out of her grasp. She was sobbing, tears and stars clouding her vision. “Ozai, please!”

The man laughed at her weak desperation. “Fine,” he said. “If it matters so much to you, you can keep it.” He practically threw the baby back to Ursa, who sank back against the bed with a relieved sob. “But know that he is no son of mine. You will provide me a new heir.”

Ursa choked on her tears. “Thank you, Ozai.” She cradled the baby, who was still pitifully quiet.

Ozai left without another word. The medical staff helped Ursa back into bed, carefully avoiding her gaze. She didn’t care. All that mattered was that her boy was safe. He was safe in her arms, and she wouldn’t let Ozai take him.

<><><><><>

Ozai hated his son. He hated his weakness in firebending. His empathy towards creatures not worth a second thought. His eyes, a shade of blue brighter than their tropical sky. A hue that spoke volumes to the child‘s sense of loyalty. He loathed him, and he loathed the boy’s mother for allowing the disgrace to the throne to exist.

When his father told him to kill the child, he could hardly conceal his pleasure. He would never have to see those treacherous eyes again.

It was less than ideal when Ursa confronted him.

“Ozai! You can’t do this!”

“I have no choice,” he scoffed. “Refusing the Fire Lord’s command is treason. But,” he continued, “I am a merciful man. I’m waiting until he’s asleep. He won’t feel a thing.”

“You listen carefully,” she began.

He was caught between fury and amusement when she was so adamant about saving the child. He was hardly listening to her as she spoke, but at the mention of the throne, he paused.

She spoke of a poison. A plan that could grant him great power. He agreed, on the condition of her banishment.

This turn of events would grant him more than just power. Everything would fall into place. He would take the throne, preventing his brother from turning their nation soft. His children would no longer have their mother’s influence, which meant he could shape Azula into a fine leader. She was a young bending prodigy with a brilliant mind. He would ensure that she would inherit the crown one day, and her golden eyes would prove her loyalty to her nation.

Ursa’s absence would leave Zuko vulnerable. Ozai could do whatever he wanted, and she would be helpless to stop it.

Yes, he quite liked this idea.

<><><><><>

From the moment Ursa left, Ozai was determined to make the boy’s life miserable. Whenever Zuko failed, or made a mistake, or stared for too long with his clear blue eyes, Ozai found ways to punish him. Zuko lived in constant fear, avoiding his father altogether when he could, and averting his eyes when he couldn’t. 

One night, in the privacy of his bedroom, Zuko stared in the mirror. He stared at the bruises, the burns, not always bad enough to scar, but always so, so painful. He knew he deserved it, he deserved all of it. He just wasn’t sure why. He stared at his face, at the fading red mark over one eye where his father had slapped him. He didn’t understand what he’d done wrong. Hot, silent tears slid down his face, blurring his vision.

_Not good enough_ , he thought, wiping them away angrily, _stupid, stupid Zuko, always doing it wrong. Never good enough, not good enough—_

He startled at the sound of his door opening. He tugged his sleeves down as he whipped around, because _Father said never to show anyone my punishments. They’re only for me, so I remember—_

“Good evening, Prince Zuko.”

“Uncle Iroh?”

The man smiled. It was warm, and pleasant, unlike the way Father smiled at Azula. Iroh held up a small tray carrying a porcelain tea set. “Do you like jasmine?”

(Though he’d never tell his nephew, Iroh had noticed the tense of his shoulders as the door opened. Had noticed the way he tore at his sleeves. He noticed the shake in Zuko’s voice as he reported on his lessons over tea, the way he avoided eye contact when he spoke. The way he blamed himself, without hesitation, for the slightest mishap during his training. The dim candlelight did little to hide the mark on Zuko’s face. Iroh decided to keep his growing fears to himself as he watched the young crown prince’s teacup rattle in his shaking hands. Rest assured, however, he would be keeping a much closer eye on his nephew.)

<><><><><>

“Let me in!”

“Prince Zuko, what’s wrong?”

Zuko huffed as he turned towards his uncle. “I want to go into the war chamber, but the guard won’t let me pass.”

“You’re not missing anything,” Iroh assured him. “Trust me. These meetings are dreadfully boring.”

“If I’m going to rule this nation one day, don’t you think I need to start learning as much as I can?”

The question froze Iroh in his tracks. The poor boy, only thirteen, didn’t understand how much his father despised him. Iroh secretly suspected that Ozai would do anything to keep Zuko off the throne. But he saw his nephew’s face, lit with an optimistic smile, and couldn’t stop himself.

“Very well,” he said, “but you must promise not to speak.” He glanced back at the men filtering into the room. “These old folks are a bit sensitive, you know,” he explained.

“Thank you, Uncle.”

He led his nephew through the doorway into the war meeting, pointedly ignoring his brother’s disapproving glare.

Iroh knew two things with certainty about his nephew. The first: Zuko was obedient. He would follow his father’s orders, no matter how much they endangered him. Iroh noticed the way Zuko would answer commands from others; hands trembling slightly, curled in fists at his sides, and eyes darting wildly, as if he wasn’t sure where to look when someone addressed him. He never spoke out. Unless—

The second thing he knew: Zuko was tragically empathetic. He would sneak to the turtle-duck pond after dark with a bit of bread saved from dinner; he would defend a member of the palace staff if someone of a higher rank accused them of stealing. He was so much like his mother that way.

Iroh had been counting on Zuko holding to the former. He had prayed the boy would have no reason to give in to the latter.

So, when Zuko defended the 41st division, when he acted as their representative, Iroh’s blood ran chill. Though the boy was just in his actions, the look of pure hatred in his father’s face plainly showed that his opinion differed.

As the Fire Lord reprimanded his son, a hush fell upon the room. Being seasoned generals, they all knew the gravity of the situation. An Agni Kai.

When Ozai stepped out onto the dueling ground, Iroh was not surprised. The man had been looking for an excuse to hurt Zuko, to punish him for his existence. That was evidenced by the faint purple bruises littering the child’s arms and back.

_Why,_ Iroh thought, _why did I allow this to go so far?_

Zuko stood, facing his father in front of a crowd. His face was the picture of shock and terror, and he dropped to his knees. His breaths heaved, his voice shook. “I meant you no disrespect. I am your loyal son.”

Ozai’s harsh reply made the boy tremble visibly.

“I won’t fight you,” he insisted, staring at the ground between them.

“You will learn respect,” Ozai snarled as he closed the distance between himself and the child. “And suffering will be your teacher.”

Zuko looked up to his father. Tears streamed down his face. His eyes, his _blue_ eyes, were wide as they stared upwards. It was the bright, overwhelming hue that finally made Ozai snap.

In one swift movement, Ozai had his son’s head between his hands. He lit his right palm ablaze.

Zuko screamed.

The sound was wretched, inhuman. It was torturous. Iroh felt helpless. Even positioned as far as he was from the raised dueling ground, head turned away from the harrowing sight, Iroh choked on the heat.

The sound did nothing to affect Ozai. He had wanted to burn those Agni-forsaken eyes out of the boy’s head from the moment he was born. And _Spirits_ , was it satisfying. He pushed harder into Zuko’s skull, at once holding him in place and deepening the wound.

Zuko’s agonized screams grew hoarse, eventually stuttering in his dry throat.

Finally, _finally_ , Ozai stepped back, and Zuko dropped forward onto his side.

Iroh paid little attention as Ozai announced the terms of his son’s banishment. Instead, he stared at Zuko’s shaking figure. His legs were curled inwards, and his sickly pale skin shone with sweat. His breathing was rapid, shallow. Iroh forced his dry throat to swallow.

He was so small.

That evening, Iroh was quick to purchase a ship. It was the least he could do. Zuko had endured more in thirteen years than most people would in their lives, and his battle was far from over. After a brief goodbye to Zuko’s limited friends and acquaintances, the two of them set off with their crew. Iroh worked with the ship’s medic, learning how to mix the burn salve and how to properly apply the bandages. He wanted to be there to care for his nephew after he’d done such a poor job of it at the palace.

He would sit at Zuko’s bedside each night. He did so under the guise of watching for fever; Zuko never had to know what Iroh learned from sitting and listening as the boy slept. Iroh discovered much from Zuko’s nightmares, from his restless fits. The way he still called for his mother, the way he relived the Agni Kai almost every night, the way he apologized and apologized and _apologized—_ as if he’d been the one in the wrong. 

Iroh didn’t like to listen. He didn’t like to know the extent of his nephew’s suffering, but it was important that he understood. And it was important that when Zuko woke, panicked and breathless, clutching at his chest, sweat steaming into the air, that he saw a familiar face. Neither of them were quite used to the ship yet, so it did them both good to share a hot cup of tea when they felt homesick (even if Zuko would never admit it).

<><><><><>

After what seemed an eternity of restless nights and blistering pain and smoldering heat, Zuko insisted he finally felt well enough to take his first steps above deck.

(Truthfully, when his uncle wasn’t there watching him, he still trembled on his unsteady legs as he stood from his cot. His lungs still wheezed and gasped as he stumbled across the room to the looking glass, which Iroh had covered with a scrap of cloth. His hands still shook as he lifted the fabric away. He still retched at the blurry reflection of his sickly, bandaged face.)

He stepped into the sun, keeping his hands deliberately away from the railing, even as the medic behind him grumbled a warning of _reduced balance caused by severe trauma to the left ear—_

He felt immediately invigorated, simultaneously cooled by the ocean breeze and warmed by Agni’s rays. He took a deep breath in to stoke his inner fire, and choked down his gag at the salty air. This would take some getting used to.

Uncle stepped forward to offer Zuko an arm, which he pointedly ignored. It was clearly a test. This banishment— _mission,_ he corrected himself—would be his chance to prove to his father his loyalty, and he would not throw that chance away by showing such weakness so early on. He was going to do everything right.

His father would be proud of him yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah uhhhh, sorry??
> 
> Let me know if you’d be interested in a continuation of this universe that follows the canon timeline. It would be a huge undertaking but I’m willing to try if enough people are interested
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hopefully I didn’t ruin y’all’s lives too much


End file.
